Demon Doors
by Tannim Murphy
Summary: Weird little self insertion idea that never really took off, but wrote too much on not to post. Also slapped some Otaku Muyo extras on the end as an apology for taking forever.


This is a weird setup idea that I had a while back that never really  
took off, aside from two major sections. Here they are spliced  
together in a director's cut. Please keep in mind the vast majority  
of this was written a long time ago... a long, long time ago... and  
please be forgiving. We were all young once. It's more of an  
original character, but I wondered what I'd be like if my background  
had been different.

A multi-crossover idea that won't be completed any time soon...

Demon Doors

by Tannim Murphy

Disclaimer: Neither Tenchi Muyo nor Robotech belong to me. I don't  
even claim to own the setup, and would like nothing better to forget I  
ever came up with it.

--

When the call went out for potential candidates, over five thousand  
people were found world-wide. These were people who had the ability  
to at least see the Doors, if not go through them. I don't know how  
they were discovered, except that the tech-boys had the cooperation  
from every government on earth to scan as much as they liked. The  
threat of demonic invasion wasn't a pleasant one. Everyone found was  
given a choice: You can join or not. They weren't going to force us.

They also didn't sugar-coat it for us: We were all probably going to  
die. However, it was a mission to save Mankind from the Great Evil  
from Beyond. I wonder how many others besides me actually fell for  
that line. Apparently, around two hundred of us decided to stick  
around.

We were the brave and the foolhardy. Those of us who either felt we  
had nothing to lose, or that we wanted something more in our existence  
than nine-to-five jobs. I'm sure there were a few martyrs in the mix;  
those that felt that they were sacrificing themselves for the greater  
good. I never met them. They probably all died in the First Mission.

Yes, the First Mission deserves the capital letters. Those of us that  
survived it won't ever forget it. Well, not that it matters. Most of  
us that survived it are dead anyway.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We had about a one week crash course in our weapons of choice. Those  
of us who had prior training were the most fortunate; we at least had  
some experience. Those poor bastards who stuck around without any  
experience at all had no way of knowing what they liked and were  
familiar with.

We were given any type of weapon we wanted, short of tac-nukes.  
Apparently they discovered the demons like fire and explosions, but  
couldn't handle metal very well. I, myself, chose to stock up. Four  
Desert Eagles on various parts of my body; one for regular firing and  
reloading, three for emergencies. I decided I needed a few extra  
'emergency' guns, so I loaded up myself with a couple of revolvers  
that I could easily reload the bullets manually if I had to. I also  
had a machine gun on general principles. I needed something that  
could spew out more bullets a minute than I could talk words a minute.  
The damn gatling gun I originally wanted was too heavy for me to lift.  
I think someone else picked one up, though.

How did I, a twelve-year-old, know what kind of weapons I liked? How  
I did I even know how to use them, you might ask? It's simple,  
really. Until I was eleven, I lived with my uncle, my only living  
relative. I loved the old coot. Crazy as a wombat, though. He lived  
in the wilds of Texas, on quite a large plot of private land. He made  
sure it was private, by force of arms. He taught me how to survive,  
how to shoot straight, and how to sneak around in the forest. I  
thought it was one big game at the time; now I'm thankful for those  
survival lessons.

That's all I'll say about my past.

One of the weird things about the Doors: only those sensitive to them  
could pass through them unscathed. We could bring other people, but  
unless we were in constant contact with them the entire time on the  
other side, they died. I never found out why. Maybe the tech-boys  
figured it out, but they never told us.

Sensing a pattern? The scientists didn't tell us a lot of things.  
'Need to know basis.' We never needed to know.

I'm getting off track again. It's one of the many bad habits I've  
picked up.

Oh, I've forgot to introduce myself. I used to be a semi-normal kid  
with a semi-normal name. However, after I survived the First Mission,  
I was given a nick-name by my friends. Everyone who survived that  
became friends. You don't abandon people that you've gone through  
that kind of hell with.

You can call me Handgun Hank.

Cheesy, ain't it? I like it, though. We got a peculiar sense of  
humor.

--

"Why do I have to carry all the extra weapons?" whined Hank as he  
trudged behind Stan and Akane.

Stan was called Stan because of his nickname. "Stan the Man with the  
Plan" was given to him because he is reason there were survivors at  
all after the First Mission. He figured out that if you kill the  
leader, the horde falls. He called some snipers together, got the  
rest of the survivors to lay covering fire, and after a few dead  
demons, the leader was found and killed. The rest of the demonic  
horde dispersed soon afterward, leaving some very thankful humans.

Akane was Japanese and never got a nickname. Whenever someone thought  
about it, the only answer they could come up with is "Akane is Akane."  
She didn't need a nickname.

Stan shared an amused glance with Akane before answering. "It's your  
fault we're without a ride."

"Hey, that was SO not my fault! How was I supposed to know that demon  
had a taste for motor oil?" grumbled Hank as he shifted his burden for  
the umpteenth time in an attempt to make it more comfortable. The  
rocket launcher was particularly difficult as it didn't work well to  
counter-balance the boxes of ammo he had strapped to his other  
shoulder.

Akane grinned at the irate teenager's discomfort. "You shouldn't have  
tried ramming it, and then it wouldn't have eaten the engine  
compartment."

Hank held his reply, his attention focused on checking behind him for  
possible threats. After making sure they were clear, he turned back  
to respond. "We just had that new titanium reinforced spiked front  
installed, and I wanted to test it out. How was I supposed to know  
something with that small a head had that big a mouth?"

"Excuses, excuses," said a smirking Stan.

"You should be thankful you get to drive at all. Not a lot of kids  
your age are allowed to," said Akane.

"Yeah, yeah..." grumbled Hank. "A lot of kids my age also haven't  
saved the world."

--

It was quiet at HQ as the officer on duty waited patiently for Team 8.  
They were a few hours overdue, but that was normal. Sometimes, a team  
was waylaid while they had to take out a particularly large batch of  
demons. Other times, the team had mechanical failure, and had to hoof  
it back to base.

Then again, sometimes they didn't come back at all. Those were the  
most worrying.

It startled the officer on duty when an honest-to-goodness wild-haired  
scientist bolted through the doorway.

"We've got it! We've got it!" he exclaimed.

"Got what?" replied the tired-looking officer. He wasn't feeling up  
to dealing with the crazy people down in R and D. Weren't there other  
people for dealing with the scientists?

"We can finally close the portal for good!"

That the officer's attention.

"There's only one problem with it. We don't have much time."

--

"C'mon, Hank, hurry up. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can eat  
food again," said Akane.

"Yeah, like the crap they serve in the cafeteria can be considered  
'food,'" grumbled Hank.

Another weird thing about the demon plane: you never had to eat there.  
That was a good thing, as any food brought to it spoiled and rotted  
quickly.

It was several minutes before they arrived at their destination.

"Well, here we are. We've made it," said Stan.

The Door stood in front of them like a glowing, baleful red eye.  
Tendrils of evil energy slowly swirled around the epicenter, the  
brightest part of the Door that had a dark, violent red glow.

Akane reached it first. With a complicated series of gestures, the  
iris of the portal expanded just enough for a human to duck through  
and enter.

"C'mon, slowpokes, I can taste food already," she threw over her  
shoulder before exiting.

Stan followed soon after without bothering to comment, though he did  
throw a half-grin in Hank's direction, twenty feet behind him and  
still struggling with the load of ammo nearly twice the kid's own  
weight. He chuckled at the sight as he stepped through the portal.

--

"All right, they're back! Do it!"

"Do what?" Stan asked and stared uncomprehendingly at the staggeringly  
large number of lab coats where he expected military fatigues.

"Hit it!"

--

The suddenly bright light in front of him made Hank look up from the  
green ammo boxes with a start. Then it grew to such intensity that he  
dropped everything to shield his eyes, boxes of ammo and rocket  
launcher clattering to the ground. When the light finally went out,  
the boy kept his eyes shut a few extra seconds to allow his abused  
retinas to rest. Even after moving his hands away, he had to blink  
hard to get the spots out of his eyes.

Hank stared at the empty space in front of him. For a moment, he  
wondered whatever the hell made him sensitive to the Doors was on the  
fritz. The gate should be right in front of him; he just paused to  
adjust a strap!

Well, great. His ticket home had just been rejected, and he had no  
way of knowing how long he could survive in a place like this with no  
backup. There were possibly billions of demons on this plane of  
existence, each one with a taste for human flesh. And a couple with a  
taste for metal. Without the ability to re-supply with ammo, it was  
only a matter of time before he was the next snack on the Demon  
Buffet, even if the demons they tended to encounter were few and far  
between, and mostly lazy.

Hank had lost all ability to panic when he survived the First Mission.  
It's not that he didn't fear death. He really, REALLY, didn't want to  
die. It's just that he was forced to adopt the position that if he  
was going to die, he'd rather go down fighting. That and he'd seen  
people panic on the First Mission. It got them killed.

However, a situation like this could not go completely ignored. Hank  
therefore felt, even if there was no-one else around to hear, that he  
needed to give some kind of comment.

He did so.

"Well, shit."

Hank thought it summed things up quite nicely.

--

Time passed...

Yosho was meditating.

It would be more accurate to say that Yosho was drinking a cup of tea,  
while listening to the sounds of his grandson work on keeping the  
temple clean, but he was a shrine priest. Therefore, whenever he was  
sitting in one place for long periods of time, it was not called  
'being lazy.' It was meditating.

Yosho did a lot of meditating.

Something interrupted his meditations. This was not one of the  
habitual explosions known to rock the temple from time to time. Nor  
was it the sound of an entire lake trying to empty its contents from  
Mihoshi landing her ship in it. Neither was it the crescendo of  
sound that erupted whenever Ryoko and Ayeka were having a battle of  
titanic proportions. No, this little sound caught Yosho's ear not  
because of how loud or explosive it was, but because it seemed to  
originate just below his hearing range.

Yosho focused his hearing as he had learned over the years, to  
eliminate all other background noises. Still, the sound eluded him.  
Finally, he put himself into a deep trance, so has to further focus  
his hearing.

There! A voice!

"...then I'll go buy some junk food. Or maybe I should buy the junk  
food first, and THEN take a bath? Yeah, then I could EAT the junk  
food WHILE taking a bath! Maybe I should get some clothes that don't  
make me look like I just stepped out of a cheesy war movie? Perhaps  
the ammo re-supply depot is open? I'm running dangerously low on  
bullets.

"Geez, I hope I come out someplace friendly. I don't think I could  
take killing demons for another month. At least, a month is what my  
watch says. God, I love my watch. I'd probably go insane without it.  
Hell, I've probably gone insane with it.

"I hope the place has people. People that can understand English. Or  
at least Japanese. I speak Japanese almost as well as I speak  
English. Okay, so that's a lie. I can barely make it known that I  
can't really speak Japanese. I'll have to trust that someone will  
speak English on the other side. Of course, judging by the way things  
have gone on for me there won't be much chance of that. I wish I had  
paid more attention to the Japanese lessons Akane was giving me. Then  
again, the chances of whatever is on the other side speaking Japanese  
OR English is small, so I'm pretty much screwed whichever way you look  
it.

"I wonder how Akane is doing. I wonder how Stan is doing. I hope  
they're all right. They're probably worried about me. Aw, who am I  
kidding, they probably think I'm dead.

"What is this, the five hundredth time I've had this conversation with  
myself?

"No, that was only the four hundred and ninety-ninth time.

"Oh, were YOU keeping track?

"No, but somebody had to answer, do you see anyone else around here?

"Do you think I've gone crazy?

"No, I don't.

"That was sarcasm, wasn't it?

"Good for you, you figured it out!

"Oh, shut up!

"So, you're telling yourself to shut up, are you?

"No, I'm only telling a 'part' of myself to shut up. The annoying,  
sarcastic, can't-say-anything-good part that I wish was a tad quieter  
these days.

"Well, too bad! You haven't had anyone to talk to for a month  
straight, and SOMEONE has to play the opposite of the conversation.  
It's not interesting if you're always agreeing with yourself all the  
time.

"Okay, everyone just shut up. We're at the Door."

Yosho mentally blinked.

"You 'do' remember how to go through it, right?

"Of course I do! It's easy!"

The voice paused.

"Okay, I'm still waiting.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm sure of got it...

"You've forgotten, haven't you?

"No! Not really... just... misplaced it in my mind...

"You HAVE forgotten!

"Well, if YOU'RE so smart, why don't YOU open the door?

"I'm not the one in charge of the brain. I don't have access to all  
of your memory files.

"A likely excuse! You're me, you should know!

"Fine! I'll show you!"

There was another, longer pause.

"You've forgotten too, haven't you?

"Well, can you blame me? I've been trying to keep you from going  
insane the last month!

"You haven't done a very good job then, have you?

"All right, just SHUT UP. I do not have multiple personalities; I  
just answer and talk to myself on purpose so that I don't generate  
multiple personalities. And now that we're going to be talking to  
OTHER people, it would be a BAD THING if I started talking to myself.  
Do I make myself clear? Good. Now, I think I remember how I open  
these things..."

Yosho was violently jarred out of his trance when a glowing red portal  
suddenly appeared in front of him. It was a swirling vortex of  
crimson that generated an aura of pure evil. Generally not a good  
thing, despite what he had heard a few moments ago.

Whatever Yosho was secretly expecting, a brown-haired teenage boy in  
combat fatigues and loaded with weaponry was not one of them. The boy  
quickly and efficiently scanned the surrounding area as the gateway  
closed behind him. His eyes finally came to rest on Yosho.

"Are you going to kill me?" the boy asked bluntly in perfect Japanese.

Yosho appeared to think it over for a moment. "No."

"Are you going to steal my stuff?" the brown-haired boy asked in the  
same tone of voice.

Yosho looked over the equipment strapped to the teenager. "No, I  
don't believe I will."

The boy paused for a moment, as if unsure what to do next, and blinked  
twice. "'Kay. I'll just collapse from relief now."

He did so.

--

It was afternoon in the springtime of the temple, without a cloud in  
sight. Sasami hummed cheerfully as she made her way up the steps,  
lunch in hand for Grandpa. He wasn't really her grandfather, but he  
was just as good as one. All of the qualities were there; he was old,  
wise, and always complimented her cooking.

It wasn't long before she reached the tops of the steps. Instead of  
being inside the temple like expected, he was already up and walking  
towards her. Good timing! she thought to herself.

"Hi there Grandpa!"

A pang of worry stabbed Sasami as he didn't even glance in her  
direction and walked past her.

"Grandpa?"

What was it that made him look like he had seen a ghost?

--

The first thing that entered Hank's field of vision was two pink orbs  
looking down at him. An entire month of surviving alone in a hostile  
environment where every living creature was literally out to get you  
did strange things to your reflexes. Those reflexes kicked in, as the  
first order of business was to clear some space from the potential  
hostile. Usually, a demon would already be swinging toward you if you  
woke up to see them above you. It took him two near-deaths to figure  
that one out.

Hank literally scrambled away from the eyes as quickly as he could.  
He had become very good at scrambling. The boy was also very good at  
running. There was also dodging. In fact, most of his best skills  
were directed at the ability to remove his personage from the range of  
hand to hand combat, where he was at a serious disadvantage. All of  
his other skills involved marksmanship and speed reloading.

One of the few things that Hank never had to deal with in an almost  
featureless void was walls. Unfortunately, Hank wasn't in a  
featureless void anymore. He had to deal with a wall now. In fact,  
he dealt with one so hard he nearly broke a rib from the impact.

The pain barely registered on his mind, though. He was too busy  
trying to figure out the apparition in front of him. The pink orbs  
were looking at him with something other than hunger. The pale skin  
was a different take from the normal colorful demon variety that would  
normally range from red to green. Most of the skin was covered with  
something that was colorful, though he couldn't figure out why a demon  
would wear something artificial. Even the long horns protruding from  
its head were swept backward and were tinted the most curious shade of  
light blue. If he didn't know better he'd say it almost looked like  
'hair'.

In fact, the creature was so odd he had to stop himself from pulling  
the trigger on the holdout gun he had instinctively grabbed. Hank had  
grabbed it after slapping all the usual places he keeps his weapons  
and coming up empty. He always kept something 'special' strapped to  
his left leg underneath his pants, for times he was separated from the  
rest of his arsenal such as now. Or he ran out of other things to  
shoot with and couldn't reload fast enough.

The creature was looking at him now with a different expression. It  
took him a few moments to realize what it was, as he hadn't seen it in  
a long time.

It was fear.

That wasn't right. Demons didn't fear. Therefore, judging with the  
evidence before him at all the odd qualities the creature in front of  
him possessed, he was forced to put it in a category he had not used  
in a long, long time.

He was forced to put the creature in the category of 'not-demon'.

Hank noted that the creature he was pointing his gun at looked very  
nervous; he pulled the gun up so that it was pointing at the ceiling  
in order to make it feel better. Maybe it could speak?

"Who, are, you?" asked Hank in a slow, loud voice, as if anything he  
said in a slow, loud voice could be understood no matter what language  
the other creature spoke.

"Sa-Sa-Sasami," the creature stuttered as it kept its gaze on the gun  
fearfully.

Hank had, until this moment, been acting solely on reflexes. The  
reflexes normally dictated what the body did, since there usually  
wasn't much time for thinking; however, in this situation, the  
reflexes couldn't figure out what to do next. The reflexes  
metaphorically threw their hands up in the air, put themselves back on  
standby alert, and asked the brain to handle things from here on out.  
Once Hank began to process things normally, he came to a realization.

He wasn't in the Demon World anymore.

And he'd almost shot an innocent little girl.

"Holy crap. I am so, sorry. I didn't realize- I mean I've been- it's  
just that-" stuttered the young man. Hank forced himself to calm  
down. "Um... I'm really, really sorry?"

The girl said nothing as her gaze was locked onto the gun in Hank's  
right hand.

"Oh. Right." The young boy quickly shoved the revolver back into the  
holster. "Look, I'm really sorry about almost killing you-"

Without a word the girl scrambled out of the room.

Hank sighed. "That could have gone better."

--

Years Pass...

It was a glorious day for Macross Island. The project that the entire  
community had been formed around was finally completed, and was about  
to take its maiden flight. Ten years of dedication and hard work, a  
project that had been given the support of the entire world, was  
finally going to be finished. Veritechs came out in full formation as  
they provided aerial shows, much to the delight of the citizenry.  
Several of the advanced fighters were even stationed on the ground for  
curious citizens to take a closer look at.

In an alleyway, away from prying eyes, a portal radiating pure evil  
sprang into existence. A young man stepped through it with a throwing  
dagger out and ready to be used in case of danger. His eyes quickly  
scanned for any hint of trouble. The young man was around the age of  
seventeen, though you wouldn't know it judging by his looks; a vicious  
scar ran from the top of his nose, down under his right eye and nearly  
to his jugular, making him appear older than he was. His face was  
also haggard from various adventures he had already gone through. The  
young man wore very archaic clothing, compared to standard times: a  
cloak was swept over the right arm, freeing it for action. A blue  
tunic was worn underneath the green-and-tan cloak. He also wore  
leather pants and belt, while two red fingerless gauntlets decorated  
with silver plating and two large red rubies adorned his forearms.  
The odd outfit was completed by fur boots that were laced up nearly to  
his knees.

The vortex of energy, also known as a Demon Door, winked out of  
existence as soon as he was fully through it, the only evidence that  
it ever existed was a lingering sense of dread. The Demon Doors  
themselves lead to a plane of pure evil that bordered on many other  
planes of existence. It was a terribly hazardous way to travel.

"Well, this is a delightful change of pace," muttered Hank as he eyed  
the surrounding buildings warily. "Looks like a tech world instead of  
a magic one. Better not take anything for granted, though."

The young man hunkered down in a dark corner of the alleyway. He then  
brought out a device and used it to scan the surrounding area.

"Yep," Hank nodded to himself. "Looks like I'm the only one in the  
surrounding area with magic." The man put the odd device away.  
"Maybe I can get cosmetic surgery for this thing," muttered Hank as he  
fingered his scar. "It's kind of cool looking, and good for  
intimidation, but I stand out way too much."

Hank pulled out a small brown sack. "I still can't believe Link gave  
me all his adventuring gear. Sure, I helped a bit in beating the big  
bad guy, but you'd think he'd keep the cool stuff he collected." The  
young man shook his head sadly. Link had insisted on giving Hank the  
items he could only use as an adult, since he was going to go back to  
the time when he was a child. "I just hope he doesn't regret it  
later. Who knows? A guy like him is probably destined for more  
adventures. He'll wish he had kept all of these neat items. At least  
the bag is handy; it holds anything I put in there, no matter the  
size." How else could that Biggeron sword fit in there? Not to  
mention the Mirror shield and the Hyrulian shield.

One thing about being a dimensional wanderer: you found a lot of neat  
stuff.

The young man reached in and pulled out two anklets, a ring, and a  
bracelet, the real reason he had gotten the bag out in the first  
place. "Time to get ready for whatever is out there," muttered Hank  
to himself as he put the items of power on.

On his left ankle, slipped on under the boot, he clipped on the  
oddly-named "Sprint Shoes," a magic relic he picked up along with  
several magicite in a world where magic and technology both existed  
(though the magic seemed more advanced, but less accessible, than the  
technology). They not only doubled his running speed, but they also  
allowed him to run tirelessly for as long as he needed without  
destroying his physical body. A very useful addition if you were able  
to spell yourself to run up to speeds of 60 miles an hour and more.

Hank placed on his right ankle another strangely-named magic relic:  
"Dragoon-boots." He got this the same place he got the "Sprint  
Shoes". The item allowed Hank to jump insane heights if need be,  
though he usually used them to merely jump over tall buildings in a  
single bound. Occasionally, he would have to use them to jump 'down'  
instead of 'up', if he was trapped on a cliff face. They seemed to  
work both ways just fine.

On his right wrist, Hank put on a magic item from another realm  
entitled "Battling Mages Last Resort." Despite the really neat name,  
all it did was allow the user to use the "expedious retreat" spell for  
an extended period of time; instead of merely a few minutes of double  
the running and jumping speed, it stretched the time to a few hours  
(with one minute roughly equaling one hour). However, it could only  
be used in that manner once a day. This allowed a person to run  
'really' far away.

The young man placed on the middle finger of his left hand a small  
band of gold. This was his prized possession, a magic item called  
"Magic Ring of Haste." It allowed him to cast the spell "haste"  
(which doubled his movement) three times a day. This was especially  
useful when combined with "expedious retreat." Hank wished the spell  
lasted longer than a few minutes, though.

Hank's natural running ability allowed him to run faster than the  
average person, being able to top out at 15 miles an hour. Combined  
with his "Sprint Shoes," the young man could easily run 30 miles an  
hour all day. For several hours after casting "expedious retreat,"  
Hank could run 60 miles an hour. If Hank also used his ring of  
"haste," he could reach his maximum running speed of 120 miles per  
hour. It was a very useful combination of spells and magic items.  
Using items and spells that he had found in various realms together  
like this, along with a willingness to run away when need be, had kept  
him alive all these years he had been adventuring.

Then the wind sheer had to be considered as well. An unprotected  
person traveling at 120 miles per hour wouldn't last long; at the very  
least their clothing would be torn to shreds. This was prevented by  
casting the spell 'protection'. Normally, the spell simply slowed  
physical attacks so that they were blunted. However, it also served  
as a buffer to slow the wind down when it became brutal. It was an  
effective if unorthodox use of the spell.

Of course, all of this preparation to run didn't necessarily mean he  
was going to run away.

The truth was, Hank hated to run away, but he knew it was sometimes  
necessary so that he could come back and fight again another day. He  
wasn't wearing the red gloves and silver gauntlets with gigantic red  
rubies out of some sort of misguided fashion statement; the gloves  
themselves were gloves of "Giant Strength", and the silver trinkets  
given to him by Link could lift gigantic boulders by themselves.  
These two items combined was another deadly yet effective combination  
of magical items scattered about the many realms of possibilities.

Aside from the myriad number of magical items he had acquired over the  
years, Hank also had an enormous store of spells filed away in his  
mind, ready to be cast at a moments notice. These were one of his  
greatest resources, for if he was separated from his many bags of  
tricks, he always had a full deck of cards up his proverbial sleeve in  
case of emergency.

Even after all these magical preparations, Hank still had a small  
cache of guns he could fall back on in an emergency, even though he  
has run out of ammunition for most of them. Guns and swords were the  
only things that seemed to work right in the Demon World, so he  
usually conserved his ammunition for when he most needed it. Still,  
he had some pretty powerful weapons held in reserve.

Hank smiled grimly to himself as he stood up, as he finished preparing  
for whatever he would encounter. "Once more into the breach," quipped  
the young man with a fatalistic shrug as he traveled out of the  
alleyway and into the unknown.

Hank's first impression was a colorful one. The city was littered  
from one end to another with streamers hanging over the streets,  
bearing colorful flags of every nation. Everywhere Hank could see  
people were happy and filled with energy.

"Must be some sort of celebration," mused the young man. He gave a  
small laugh at his own statement. "Tch, it wouldn't take a genius to  
figure that out."

Hank paused as the sound of sirens reached his ears. He turned about  
just in time to see a convoy of police motorcycles escorting a limo.  
Two men next to Hank began to talk amongst themselves.

"The big-shots making their grand entrance." One man sniffed.

"Captain Gloval doesn't seem to be too happy about it." The other man  
remarked.

Upon closer inspection of the limo, Hank could indeed see that a naval  
captain was sitting uncomfortably next to some sort of politician.  
Poor guy.

Okay, now's the time to ask the stupid questions, and get a bearing on  
this place.

"Who's Captain Gloval?"

The two men turned to answer the young man, but instead opted to stare  
openly at the stranger's apparel.

"I'm new in town," said Hank, as if that explained everything. He was  
lucky the cloak covered everything above the knees.

One of the men nodded, as if it were normal for visitors to his city  
to be wearing long green cloaks and furred boots. The other was still  
a bit suspicious.

"Captain Gloval is the person who is going to command the Super  
Dimensional Fortress Macross," said the less suspicious of the two.

"Ah." Hank still didn't know what they were talking about, but he  
figured he asked enough stupid questions for one day. Besides, they  
way the man spoke of this 'Macross' thing, it sounded like everyone  
should already know about it. "Thank you for your time."

As Hank turned away from the men, a large object in the distance  
caught his eye. The young man was so awed by the sheer size of the  
thing, he forgot that other people might be around, and immediately  
jumped to a nearby roof for a better look. Gasps of shock and  
surprise as he leapt twelve stories easily were ignored by the man as  
he gazed upon one of the most impressive sights he had ever seen in  
his many years of journeying. From his position on the rooftop, Hank  
could only see the prow of the massive machine, so he leapt up three  
hundred feet in the air to get a better look. The view from above was  
even more spectacular with the large space-faring vessel stretched out  
before him. It was mind-boggling when you compared the size of the  
ship to the surrounding buildings.

"Gust," muttered Hank as he landed lightly on the rooftop with the aid  
of some basic elemental wind magic to break his fall. His cloak  
billowed up around him as the magic was summoned. That particular  
spell was normally used to push people around, and not much else; Hank  
had adapted to using it to change his direction in mid-jump.

Something interesting was bound to happen soon, with that sort of  
hardware lying around. No doubt some kind of attack. The Doors  
always seemed to drop Hank off in the middle of Interesting Times and  
there was hardly ever a dull moment.

In celebration of the current dull moment, Hank sat himself down on  
the edge of the roof, and proceeded to watch the aerial acrobatics  
performed by the local air force. He was confident that he wouldn't  
have to go looking for adventure; adventure would find him.

--

Captain Gloval was bored. He hated this part of the job. Standing  
around at functions, giving speeches and the like, trying to look  
pretty for the people; basically, Gloval hated all aspects of  
politics. He knew it was part of the job--no officer could escape the  
need to be politic at least once and a while--but he hated it all the  
same. His mind drifted as the slimy politician droned on about how  
wonderful the Macross Fortress project was, and he wondered how his  
crew was holding up in preparation for their maiden voyage. He had  
begged the navy to give him a more experienced crew, but they replied  
he would have plenty of time to break in a new one, one that was  
trained for the new robotechnology.

Gloval was interrupted in his ponderings by a liaison officer. The  
liaison cupped his hand to Gloval's ear and said, "Excuse me, sir:  
urgent message from the space monitoring station. A strange flash of  
light and an explosion, tremendous radiation readings, accompanied by  
irregularities in solar gravitational fields."

The Captain's agile mind quickly picked up on the significance of that  
report. "The same sort of thing happened ten years ago. You know  
what happened then, don't you?"

The aid, trying to conceal his fear, nodded. "That's when the alien  
ship arrived!"

"Better check it out," said Gloval as he led the way toward the bridge  
of his new ship.

Gloval couldn't help but feel apprehension at this news. Sure, it was  
great to get away from the speeches, but he couldn't help but feel  
that something much worse was about to happen.

A few moments after the captain left, the politician on the stage  
became extremely embarrassed when he tried to call Captain Gloval up  
to make a speech.

--

Hank had enjoyed the little air show immensely. Some sort of rouge  
hot shot pilot had flown in and messed around with the military pilots  
who were performing. All in all, it was good for a laugh.

Now Hank was feeling the wonderful sensation of boredom. He didn't  
really have to do anything right now, and he wasn't very hungry. This  
unusual yet highly sought-out sensation was a great joy for him, since  
he hardly ever got to be bored.

Movement from the vessel in front of Hank caught his attention. The  
Fortress split the entire front of itself in two.

Hank's eyes widened in shock. "Unless I miss my guess... That's an  
energy build-up." The young man paused for a second, mulling over  
this new piece of information. "If that thing is building up energy  
like that, it must be one helluva cannon."

Hank once more considered silently. It was around this time that the  
young man realized he was sitting directly in front of the largest  
weapon of mass destruction he had ever seen.

"Shit!"

Leaping down from the rooftop, Hank ran to the side of where he  
predicted the blast would occur. Just in time, as behind him a huge  
beam of energy lanced from the starship. The beam itself never  
touched the building; however, the resulting shockwave from the  
massive weapon destroyed the building he had occupied as if it was  
made of tissue paper, and continued on to outer space.

"Great, just great. Something is attacking." Hank didn't believe  
that anyone would fire something like that off just to impress a few  
civilians. Therefore, the next logical step was that it was shooting  
at the enemy. Whoever or whatever that enemy was.

He started running at a normal pace toward the machine that had just  
fired, to see if he could help.

As Hank ran, his suspicions proved correct: air raid claxons began  
wailing. Moments later, a voice was broadcast over the entire city.  
"Enemy forces approaching in sector four, one, two!"

The young man leapt on top of another nearby tall building, to see if  
there was anything he could do against the invading forces. Below  
him, he could hear the military evacuating the civilians to nearby  
shelters in the mountains. He idly noted the direction the shelters  
were located for future reference.

"Okay, let's review for those watching at home," Hank muttered to  
himself. He liked to narrate his own story, something of a habit he  
picked up over the last four years of lonely travel. "I've just been  
through five different magic worlds without hitting a high tech one.  
This means I'm fully stocked on magic potions and the like, while  
dangerously low on advanced weaponry. So I start off with a few magic  
spells, see if that helps; if not, I switch to my newly acquired Big  
Assed Sword and hope it can chop through steel."

A barrage of missiles began falling from the sky. The once blue sky  
was darkened by the sheer number of them, small comets hurrying  
downward toward earth and the eventual destruction of the creatures  
that lived down there. Counter-measures were launched from nearby  
silos, but it wasn't nearly enough to stop all of the deadly armament.

"I call upon the power of the Heavens to strike down my foes!  
Lightning!" cried out Hank as he unleashed one of his few wide-range  
spells at the missiles landing near his position. Bolts of lightning  
lanced out from his fingertips in every direction, detonating all of  
the warheads within a thousand foot radius harmlessly in the air. It  
was the widest he could stretch his attack. Unfortunately, it wasn't  
nearly enough as missiles on the other side of the city and out of  
Hank's range still struck the ground, causing some serious damage.

"Dammit! And those fighters are too high up for me to assist,"  
grumbled Hank as he watched the aerial battle above him. Not that his  
lightning attacks would probably do much against those huge mecha. He  
wasn't sure he could create a big enough lightning bolt to take down  
something that size. The only spells he was sure would destroy them  
were so destructive he didn't dare use them this close to a city.

One of the fighter planes broke off from the melee and began tumbling  
downward, out of control. It looked hopeless as the fighter tried in  
vain to correct his unwanted decent. Right before he hit the ground,  
the fighter seemed to undergo some kind of transformation. Hank  
couldn't get a good look at it, as just as the plane was beginning to  
transform, it crashed through several buildings.

Hank eyed the area where the fighter had crashed dispassionately.  
"Eh, hope the guy didn't kill any civilians." The young man turned to  
scan the horizon carefully. "There's got to be a second wave of these  
things. Maybe this time they'll get close enough for me to attack."

For a long time, Hank waited, eyes continually scanning the area  
around him. His diligence was paid off as he spotted the next wave of  
fighters peeking out just behind a hill. There was one thing wrong  
with this situation, though.

"Why aren't they attacking?" muttered Hank in confusion. "Must be  
waiting for something. But what...?"

On instinct, Hank looked up. A point in the sky had turned a darker  
blue than the rest of it.

"Oh shit. Orbital bombardment."

The young mage never had time to erect a shield before the area around  
him was completely annihilated. The building he was standing on was  
cut out from underneath him before he could react, and he fell  
helplessly through a crack on the roof before the rest of the building  
collapsed on top of him, killing him instantly.

--

The End

--

Ha! My first complete SI!

Here's a bit of an extra for those who actually read this far:

Otaku Discarded

Originally I had planned Otaku Muyo to be much closer to Undocumented  
Features, in which much of the action took place on the college  
campus. This was trashed except as a plot device to get my character  
from one world to the next. The original story actually started with  
an idea that someone from the Silver Millennium found a journal of  
Tannim's written specifically to them. Each chapter was going to open  
up and close with a journal entry.

However, much of my earlier ideas were discarded as fairly useless  
since they didn't add much to the story in terms of plot or flavor.

Disclaimer: Tannim Murphy is a character that I made up and belongs  
to me. Any resemblance to me is purely intentional. The college I  
attend doesn't really matter. It doesn't have any sort of interesting  
background whatsoever, and cannot or will not transform into a giant  
mecha. Believe me, I've tried. Sailor Moon does not belong to me,  
and I have no real right to do this... but I'm doing it anyway.

--

"Go forth fireball! Burn down my foe!

"Shyeah, right. Counterspell."

"Dammit, I hate control blue!"

"Well, I hate red-black destruction decks, so we're even."

"Fine then. Well, I summon to my side FESTERING GOBLIN!"

"Hooray for Uncle Fester!" someone cheered from the sidelines.

"And after that, I shall end my turn."

"Cool, gimme a sec, food break."

'I have got to start eating right,' thought Tannim for the umpteenth  
time. His current meal, consisting of pepperoni pizza, was quite  
tasty despite the fact that its nutritional value was non-existent.

This, of course, made it a lot more enjoyable to eat.

He munched contently on the slice as he considered his next move.  
Magic: The Gathering required not only a considerable amount of luck,  
but brains to play your cards right. Especially for blue; its  
reputation as the mental of the colors was not unfounded, and many a  
player has given up on the color all together out of frustration. It  
required vast amounts of strategy and planning, and if you wasted a  
single card in a frivolous moment, that was it, game over for you.  
But Tannim had won many games by keeping his head cool in even the  
direst situations. That he has been damn lucky at drawing the cards  
he has needed has helped quite a bit as well.

-beep- -beep- -beep- -beep- -beep- -beep-

The watch alarm was turned off. "Awww, so sorry we have to postpone  
your handing of your own ass," Zack spoke as he gathered his cards.  
"But I've got to get to class."

"A likely story. I'd have had you in two turns."

"Next time, we shall prove who is worthy!" Zack exclaimed over his  
shoulder as he left.

"There can be only one!" The reply reached the departing just as he  
hit the doors. Tannim's voice lowered so that only those in the  
immediate area could hear. "Damn, I love that man."

This provoked several snickers, but otherwise was accepted as normal  
behavior for this crowd.

--

Another day, another dollar is how the saying usually goes. For  
Tannim, he had a slight variation.

"Another day, another couple episodes of Ah! Megami-sama watched."  
The thought floated across Tannim's mind. "Damn I love the TV show  
version."

He watched anime rather than actually pay any sort of attention to his  
incredibly boring General Education teachers. They basically taught  
stuff that, if you paid any sort of attention in High School, you  
would understand the basics of it. Since Tannim had been an avid  
reader, he also had the basics of a lot of different subjects... and  
found he could get A's and B's despite not paying any sort of  
attention during class hours. He just read the books, and let his  
wandering mind latch onto information that he thought might be useful  
while the rest of his attention was spent watching anime.

ADD can be advantageous if applied correctly, Ritalin be damned.

Basically what it boiled down to was the near-perfect slacker-scheme.  
He goofed off in class while still passing and that kept him sane.

Thank the Lord for laptops. He didn't understand why he didn't see  
more students have and use one. The reason might be because he went  
to a community college.

"All right class, for our first big project, I want you to keep  
journals. Each should have at least five entries, per week, for a  
total of four weeks until your midterms. Length shouldn't be a  
factor, but please try to keep your entries complete. No 'today  
sucked, wish school would blow up' entries." This elicited a few  
chuckles from the otherwise bored students.

A thought occurred, and Tannim raised a hand. "Can we give our  
journal names, like we're writing to someone else?"

"Certainly. The important thing is that you get into the habit and  
learn to dissect your feelings about the events of the day."

"A journal, huh?" His thoughts were still on the class project. He  
was dreading it because all his other attempts at keeping a journal  
for school had ended disastrously: he'd never know what to write, or  
would simply forget to do the assignment at all.

Then of course there was the name. This is what Tannim had been  
thinking about most.

Ever since he could remember, he had a habit of naming things after  
stuff he'd read about in books. He attributed it to the fact that he  
wasn't very imaginative. Now that he was into anime, he had a whole  
slew of situations and characters he could steal names from. But  
which one should he use?

Well, he had been on a Sailor Moon fanfiction kick lately. Re-reading  
the entire "Nuke 'Em 'Till They Glow!" series probably didn't help  
matters.

"So basically, it's down to which Sailor I want to write to," Tannim  
smirked to himself. "That's going to be a tough choice." He  
brightened as he spotted a set of dice nearby. "I'll let fate decide  
for me!" He cheerfully proclaimed.

Tannim picked out an eight-sided die necessary to many tabletop RPGs.  
"Hmm, I think I'll include all the inners, Setsuna, Michiru, and  
Hotaru." He didn't relish the thought of writing to Haruka. She was  
way too butch for his tastes.

He rolled.

"Hey, an eight! Hotaru it is!"

--

The Future...

"There's nothing out here, Luna."

"Are you sure, Saturn? Pluto was very definite about the disturbance.  
Something about tachyons flooding the area."

"Well, the only thing floating here is me. Wait," Hotaru paused as  
something moved between her and the sun. It was small, she doubted  
she would have seen it if she hadn't been looking in the right  
direction. "Found something."

"What is it?"

Hotaru grasped the object, and flipped it over a few times. "It's...  
a book."

"A book? Of magic?"

"No, it's more like a notebook. It looks really old. Like, from  
around the time we were born."

"The twentieth century? But how?" Luna muttered to herself in  
confusion.

"Don't know. I'm bringing it in for analysis."

Incredibly, the journal appeared none the worse for wear from its  
jaunt in space. During the flight back, Hotaru had tried to read what  
was written, but the language wasn't one she was familiar with. It  
seemed familiar, but she just couldn't place it.

Several thousand years of living tends to degrade the long term  
memory. The earlier centuries were starting to blur together.

She shrugged. Mercury will probably love studying the thing.

--

Ami Mizuno flipped open the book and grinned as she looked up at  
Hotaru. "It's English! This was one of the most popular languages of  
the planet when we were kids. Don't you remember?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I don't think I did very well in that  
class." Hotaru grimaced over the faint memory. "Who'd write in  
English, anyways?"

"If Pluto's involved, the more appropriate question would be 'when.'"  
Ami gave a sly smile. "I'm just glad I've kept up with my English  
studies." It was only when she became an immortal did Mercury finally  
find enough time to read as much as she wanted to.

Her sharp intake of breath after mere moments of study did not go  
unnoticed.

"What's wrong, Mercury?"

"Hotaru..." Ami looked up with a bit of fear in her eyes. "This is  
written... to you."

"What!" Hotaru shrieked in response.

"I-I don't know how! But there's no mistake, it lists your name right  
here!"

"Maybe it's talking about another Hotaru?" Saturn asked hopefully.

Ami simply turned the book around and showed her the inside of the  
cover. What Hotaru had missed by looking only at the middle of the  
book was a picture of her, dressed in fuku and with her Silence Glaive  
at fourteen years old.

Mercury thought that Saturn reacted remarkably well as she attempted  
to catch the fainting Senshi.

--

When Saturn woke up Ami graciously provided translated texts via the  
Mercury computer and let Hotaru read them alone. Mercury kept herself  
in the dark on purpose, trusting Hotaru would share the materials when  
ready.

While Saturn was busy reading, Ami contacted the rest of the inner and  
outer Senshi, and gathered them together outside Hotaru's room to  
explain the situation. In the middle of this explanation, the door  
opened and Saturn stumbled out of the room.

Ami eyed Hotaru.

Hotaru eyed Ami.

"So? What was it--?"

Mercury never got to finish her question as Hotaru burst into tears.  
"I've got a boyfriend and I don't even know when he lives!" she cried.

The baffled Senshi looked at one another.

Saturn couldn't speak; she simply shoved the translated pages at the  
assembled group and left. The door closed shut behind her.

They read.

--

Dear Hotaru,

How are you? I hope the Silver Millennium is treating you right.

Today was one of the strangest days of my life. Have you ever had one  
of those days where you just wanted to crawl under a rock and hide?  
It was kinda like that, only I probably would have used the rock to  
bash myself upside the head. It all started when I got to work this  
morning...

--

"Heya, boss."

"Hey Tannim!" The cheerful reply halted the young boy in his tracks.

"What's wrong, boss? You're never this cheerful in the morning." The  
usual response was a reflexive 'beat it kid' his boss had acquired  
after long years of working closely with children. He wasn't a bad  
man (now), but no one ever accused Mr. Gunter of being nice.

"Why, we've gone out of business!" The scowl that had been  
permanently fixed on his face ever since Tannim had known him was  
gone. Gunter would normally have been into a bitter tirade about kids  
about now, but he was too busy taking whatever money was left in the  
registrar.

"What! How?"

"You'd best not be knowing the reason. It's for your own safety, you  
understand. However, I'm going to retire in the Bahamas!" Gunter,  
former store owner, put on a hat and picked up a previously unnoticed  
briefcase. "So long, suckers!"

Tannim glared at the man's retreating back, but the look didn't have  
much heat in it. It had been a sweet job while it lasted. "What's  
going to happen to the store?"

"Don't care!" The door slammed shut behind him.

Tannim looked around in silence for a few moments. "Well great, now  
what?" It took Tannim a few moments for the reality of the situation  
to sink in. "Hey! That bastard hasn't paid me for last week!"

--

Bonus: What if Skuld had been sent to grant Tannim a wish?

--

"Oh? Are you here to grant me a wish?"

"No! I'm here to figure out what bug in the system allowed--" Skuld  
was interrupted in mid-sentence.

"I wish I had regenerative abilities that made me nigh-immortal, in  
which the only way for me to truly die is to be subjected to void and  
thrust into a star." He paused for a moment and grinned. "Yep,  
that's the one. Never thought I'd actually get a chance to use it."

"Noooo! We were done! The game was OVER!" Skuld cried. "Why did you  
have to start it up again with an immortality wish?"

"Huh?"

"The Ultimate System doesn't 'magically bestow' power, it takes all of  
the different variables in reality and points them towards the wish's  
desired endpoint. The game was set in place so that you'd have a  
great 'chance' at achieving immortality. Once it was over, if you won  
(which you're supposed to do, since the Ultimate Force is helping you)  
your wish would finally be fulfilled. But until then, you've got to  
start working for it. As of now you and other immortals like you will  
begin to fight. After all, there can be only One."

Tannim was speechless for a solid minute. "Aw, man! I hated the  
Highlander!"

--

Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! I like contact with people, so  
feel free to respond however you like.


End file.
